No need to wait until Memorial Day, July 4, the trading deadline, Labor Day or any other traditional seasonal milestones for measuring progress.

All are irrelevant in 2007.

Three games. Three days. Four possible outcomes.

If the Mariners sweep the A's -- Mariners go to the World Series.

If the Mariners win the series 2-1 -- A contending team with a real shot at the division title.

If the Mariners lose the series 1-2 -- Gather into the basement the elderly, the children and bring some bannock and hardtack.

If the A's sweep the Mariners -- The cataclysm, as predicted in the movie "Ghostbusters":

"Fire and brimstone coming down from the skies. Rivers and seas boiling. Forty years of darkness. Earthquakes, volcanoes, the dead rising from the grave. Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together -- mass hysteria."

Not to put too fine a point on it, or anything ...

If the A's sweep the biggest opening series in Mariners history, fans can save the cosmos some trouble by driving down Fourth Avenue South to Costco for the 45,000-pack of hara-kiri blades.

Nothing has been more intensely urgent since the paternity line formed for Anna Nicole's baby. This team, in this circumstance, is the personification of the Rev. Leroy and the Church of What's Happenin' Now. No green-bananas outfit here, baby.

These Mariners are so in the moment that they nearly will be out of date before today's national anthem, which, by the way, better damn well be sung by Mick Jagger, accompanied by Yo-Yo Ma and backed by the New York Symphony Orchestra.

This is no time for KazooKlub.

Or don't you remember 2-17? That was the season-series result between the A's and Mariners last season.

It was the most lopsided series in the history of the American League since the start of divisional play in 1969, out-failed in MLB annals only by the 1974 Padres against the Braves and the 1986 Pirates against the Mets (both 1-17).

In an era of parity, that kind of disparity borders on the pathologically pathetic.

Last year, the A's were the organ grinder, the Mariners the monkey. The A's were George Bush, the Mariners were Tony Blair. The A's were Penn, the Mariners were Teller.

Not since Moe last frying-panned Curly have we seen such a cringe-inducing tribute to dope-slapping.

That's why this series is so important for the Mariners. The 2006 bleakness was so overwhelming that it must be stopped, starting this week, before it gets a chance to reproduce. Once the spores spread, all is lost, and Kansas City's Gil Meche will come to town and pitch a no-hitter.

I suppose some crank among the readership will say I'm exaggerating the importance of the series, reminding me that there will remain 159 games. Well, thanks for that, Alex Trebek. Let me save some time by having you talk to the hand while I explain.

The Mariners on Sunday added to the Opening Day roster two old guys and one young guy who were not part of the offseason's 40-man roster -- backup catcher Jamie Burke, 35 (the roster hasn't been without an old Jamie for decades), and relief pitchers Arthur Rhodes, 37, and Brandon Morrow, 22, who has pitched all of 16 innings as a professional. The Mariners nearly added broken-down infielder Rey Ordonez, 36, but assigned him to the minor leagues.

Each of these additions can be argued on its merits, but there is no disputing that in order to accommodate the hires of non-roster invitees, an identical number of players must be jettisoned from the 40-man roster.

In two cases Sunday, the Mariners avoided the problem temporarily by putting injured pitchers Mark Lowe and Cesar Jimenez on the 60-day disabled list. But someone good still had to go.

The decision was to fire Michael Garciaparra, a 24-year-old infielder, brother of Nomar and a first-round draft pick in 2001. He hit .316 in 42 games with Tacoma last year.

Also Sunday, they traded one of the "crown jewels" of the minor league system, 24-year-old Aussie left-hander Travis Blackley, to San Francisco for a backup outfielder, Jason Ellison. He likely would be this season's Joe Borchard (six games, nine at-bats in 2006 before being cut), but since he is virtually the adoptive brother of Mariners utilityman and Port Orchard native Willie Bloomquist, Ellison has the additional security of a warm, fuzzy local angle the club treasures.

And Morrow is here because he has the best arm in the organization and isn't going to save any bosses' hindparts by pitching for the High Desert Mavericks of Adelanto, Calif.

So in unloading all these contributors to the future for the sake of the present, the baseball faculty offers the following homework: "Win a little more than immediately."

This isn't just "Git 'er done," an expression so yesterday. This is "Git 'er done -- yesterday."

Not only is it unlikely that Burke and Rhodes will be around next season, they are 50-50 to make it to midseason. But they might have enough left to help beat the A's the next three days.

So much for the charge of exaggeration. Now you understand the breadth and depth of the term "hot seat." Since today's game-time temperature might not reach 50 degrees, you will be able to enjoy the radiant glow in the upper decks.

Hey, Mariners players. No pressure. Deep breath. Relax. Cue the tinkly piano music from the background of the Masters broadcast.